


there you are (you're there with open arms).

by iammadeofmemories



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends as Family, Gen, Inspired by Walking in the Wind, Louis' Birthday, No Romance, OT5 Friendship (One Direction), this fandom needs more ship-less fics honestly, yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammadeofmemories/pseuds/iammadeofmemories
Summary: hey z, the lads are coming for a pre-birthday reunion (harrys idea, idek) but, it’ll be fun. wanna come?It’s not the invitation that has him rethinking every moment of his existence, he and Louis solved their issues a long time ago (insults were shouted, apologies accepted, and tears spilled) and he has kept contact with the four of them, but…They haven’t been together, the five of them, since 2015, nearly three years ago.or, a band reunion fic, around louis' birthday.
Relationships: Niall Horan & Zayn Malik & Liam Payne & Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	there you are (you're there with open arms).

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi. 
> 
> I've been writing fanfiction for a good six years, but this is my first time posting one, hope you guys like it! English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes (and all are my own). I wrote this last year in honour of Louis' birthday and my wishful thinking of the five of them still being friends. 
> 
> I do not know any of the people mentioned in this fic, nor I presume to know any of these situations to be real. This is all fiction my darlings, please enjoy it as such.

The text catches Zayn off guard. 

He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly nervous, or why his hands are shaking as he checks the phone. He doesn’t know why he feels the urgent need to throw up, nor why the world seems to crumble around him. 

(He always was the one for the dramatics. Everybody thought it was Harry, with his flamboyant clothes and his long hair, but Zayn claimed the Drama QueenTM spot of the band since the beginning.)

(And Louis too, sometimes. Mostly when he was drunk.)

_hey z, the lads are coming for a pre-birthday reunion (harrys idea, idek) but, it’ll be fun. wanna come?_

It’s not the invitation that has him rethinking every moment of his existence, he and Louis solved their issues a long time ago (insults were shouted, apologies accepted, and tears spilled) and he has kept contact with the four of them, but…

They haven’t been together, the five of them, since 2015, nearly three years ago. 

_Fuck, it’s really been that long?_ He thinks, and he wants to laugh, because he knows it’s been _that_ long, and he knows that he is the one to blame. Maybe not entirely, their lives have never been easy and it’s hard to keep up with your friends when your world never stops, but he can recognise that he didn’t _want_ to keep up. 

Looking now at his life, he wonders if getting away from the boys (not the music, because he still thinks that’s a little bit shit) was a good decision. 

He closes his eyes, and lets himself fall on his bed, knowing that he’ll have to reply that text sooner or later. Louis sent it that morning and he can see the sun already setting through his balcony window, he knows that if he doesn’t answer the next day by maximum, Louis will think he won’t show up.

Zayn sighs, still not completely understanding why his fingers are hesitating to write an answer, and glances at his -mostly messy- room: the bed is unmade, there are half-finished cups of coffee laying around, dirty laundry, notebooks that he torn apart in frustration, and even some of Gigi’s stuff, since they’ve been on and off the last few months. He doesn’t remember when he slept all night long without problem, and he thinks that his last proper meal was probably a couple of weeks ago.

Yeah, maybe he’s due to a night out with the people he once considered family. 

(He still does, not that he’ll say it out loud anytime soon.)

Taking a deep breath, he manages to control enough his trembling fingers to type a response:

_i’ll be there._

&&&&

He has a neatly wrapped package under his arm and a bottle of booze in the other hand. He is standing before the door of Louis’ place in London, and he has been gathering courage to ring the bell for the last five minutes. 

_Get it together, Malik,_ he scolds himself, and finally dares to press the button next to the door. He hears the faint sound of a bell inside of the house and no less than two seconds later Louis Tomlinson’s face is in front of him.

It’s scary how easy is for him to smile at the sight of the older boy, considering he was low-key having an anxiety attack a couple of minutes ago. 

“Zayn!” Louis practically screams, before wrapping him in a hug: it’s sort of awkward, because Louis, being shorter than him, must stand on his tip toes (even though he’ll deny it later) and Zayn has both of his hands occupied, so he limits himself to lean on the other boy. 

It’s strange the immediate comfort that gesture gives him. 

“Hey Tommo.” Zayn greets, a smirk that is trying to be a smile dancing on his lips. He can do this, he’ll be okay, these are his _friends._

“Come in, mate, come in,” Louis moves away from the door, letting Zayn pass. Louis’ gaze falls down to the package Zayn’s holding and immediately asks: “Is that for me? It better be a birthday present, and even then, you’ll still need to get me a Christmas present.”

Having known the boy for the past eight years, Zayn knows that try to argue with him about what Niall called ‘the presents dilemma’ it’s a lost cause, so he laughs and shrugs. 

“It’s a pre-birthday reunion, isn’t it?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t get me started on that, dear Harold choose the name, not me. Just yesterday I was trying to convince him of the stupidity of it.” He tries to seem annoyed, but Zayn knows him too well and definitely recognises the fondness in his voice. 

“Am I the first then?” Zayn asks, uncertain. As much as he likes that he and Louis are not fighting anymore, there are some topics they still avoid, and it’ll be better if they don’t stay alone to bring them up. 

Luckily for him, Louis snorts. “You kidding me? Harry’s been here since yesterday. He’s in the kitchen, making food or eating it, I don’t know.”

They go to the kitchen to find out, and in their way to it, Zayn appreciates Louis’ place: it’s been a couple of months since he’s been there and it still catches him off guard when he notices Freddie’s stuff in random places. It’s a concept Zayn has trouble wrapping his mind around, that Louis is a father, that an actual, living human being depends on him. It’s weird but he decides not to comment on it. 

“He’s with Brianna.” Louis says, without giving it importance, when he notices Zayn staring. Zayn blushes and limits himself to nod while they enter the kitchen.

They see the youngest member of their group leaning against a counter, eating crisps with one hand and checking his phone with the other. 

Zayn still doesn’t know why it’s so easy for him to smile when he’s with them. 

“I’m hurt Harry, I expected a more enthusiastic welcome.” he drops, as if they saw each other every two weeks, as if the last time he saw him wasn’t nearly a year and a half ago.  
Harry’s reaction, however, is not disappointing: the bag of crisps falls to floor in a crumble and Harry’s mouth opens so comically wide that he has to fight back the laughter that threatens to get out of his mouth. 

“Z!” Harry exclaims, and Zayn’s lucky he put the bottle in the table and that Louis is currently fidgeting with his present, because Harry gives him the most enthusiastic hug he’s had in weeks: all long limbs and clumsiness and genuine affection that Zayn bites his lip to not cry. 

“I still remember when I was taller than you,” Zayn comments, when Harry finally lets him go. “Those were the days…”

Harry laughs and Louis intervenes, annoyed: “I remember when I was taller than him, shut up Malik.” Which only makes them laugh even more. 

They fall into an easy, familiar routine after that: Louis picks up the bag from the floor and starts eating its content, Zayn sits on the kitchen table (which gains him a not-serious-I’m-just-bullshitting-you reprimand from Louis) and Harry starts telling them about his tour.

Liam is the next one to arrive, all puppy eyes and shy smiles and muscled arms; he hugs Zayn as if his life depended on it, and Zayn can swear that he sees tears on Liam’s eyes when they finally let go. Fortunately for him, they implicitly decide to not comment on it.

He greets Louis next, giving him a decorated box and a one-arm, ‘bros’ hug, while he asks: “Pre-birthday reunion?”

Louis barely has time to murmur “Oh no” before Harry jumps in and starts explaining the logistics of the name and the reunion itself, while Liam doesn’t know if to nod or just keep staring, and Louis and Zayn snicker in the back. 

It’s been fifteen minutes, and Zayn seriously considers interrupting Harry to put Liam out of his misery (the man has been nodding the last thirty seconds straight) but it’s an opportune doorbell which ends up distracting Harry, who goes to open the door. 

There’s a faded _come in!_ from Harry that results in Louis shouting: “It’s my house Styles, you can’t just let anyone in!”

The answer the elder receives is an eye roll from Zayn, a bad concealed smile from Liam, and a burst of laughter from the newcomer. 

“He just did, Lou.” greets Niall, entering the kitchen with a couple of bottles on both hands, Harry laughing behind him.

“Oh, fuck off Horan.” Louis replies, which only makes them laugh even more.

Niall hugs all of them as hello, and it’s almost embarrassing for Zayn to say that he felt truly safe in that embrace but, well, it’s the truth. 

They are all together for the first time in years and it seems that Zayn is not the only one overwhelmed by the fact: he can see Louis biting his lower lip nervously, Niall wanting to talk to Liam but apparently not knowing what to say, and Zayn feels the anxiety creeping within him in a matter of seconds. 

After a couple of minutes that don’t seem to end, it’s finally Harry who manages to break the tense atmosphere by bringing up food: snacks and mini pizzas that he pulled out of nowhere, telling a terrible joke that makes only Niall laugh. That seems to relax Louis and Liam enough to start talking to each other, exchanging stories about their kids.

That’s how Zayn remembers that Liam has a kid, too. He’s fighting the voice in his head that tells him he’s an outsider ( _again_ ) and tries to keep himself busy and his mind silent helping Harry with the food and Niall with the beers.

 _Calm down,_ he thinks, doing his best to smile. _There’s no reason for you to be all this angsty._

He knows there isn’t, he really does, but still…

“C’mon Z,” Louis has put an arm around his shoulder, an affectionate touch that brings him back to reality. “We’re playing videogames, I’m going to kick Payno’s ass.”

And Zayn can’t help but to laugh at that. He lingers just a little in the space between the kitchen and the lounge area, calming his breathing and telling his awful thoughts to stay the fuck away. 

_Yeah,_ Zayn allows himself to think, as he watches the lads accommodate themselves in the living room, sharing anecdotes and drinking and laughing as if there was no tomorrow. _I’ve definitely missed this._

“C’mon Z! You’re up next with whoever wins!” Niall screams at him, patting gently the seat beside him, waiting for Zayn to sit. When he does, Niall gets close and whispers in his ear: “Don’t tell Lou, but he’s out of practice, bet you Liam wins.”

Zayn muffles a laugh, rolling his eyes. “I don’t take bets I’m gonna loose, Horan.”

“You’re no fun.”  
Louis does lose, sulking for nearly ten minutes about the fact, climbing into Harry’s lap, who pushes him away with a laugh. Zayn ignores the elder’s indignant cry of _Harold!_ as he gets up to play against Liam, with the certain thought that he is going to lose as well. 

They drink, and they talk, and they laugh and as the afternoon goes on suddenly they’re not five, successful young adults anymore, marked by the industry and a life in the spotlight; they’re not in a very expensive place in London, they don’t have careers to worry about or reputations to maintain; no, they are back eight years in time, in a little bungalow in Holmes Chapel, and they are just five teenagers with a lot of dreams that want to take over the world. 

Zayn can see them all perfectly: Niall, with a crooked smile and dyed blond hair; Harry, with a mass of curls and tattoo-less arms; Liam, with that Justin Bieber haircut and his too-lanky self; Louis, with a beanie on his head and a spark of mischief in his blue eyes. Zayn finds himself smiling without meaning to, submerged in thoughts of simpler days. 

A little voice in his head reminds him that, yes, _maybe_ they’re older now, and _maybe_ they look more worn out, and _maybe_ they’ve fought, spent sleepless nights and cried their eyes out in anger, sadness and frustration, but their essence remains: Niall still laughs too loud, talking excitedly about the things that matter to him; Harry is still clumsy for practically everything, his hugs being some of the best in the world; Liam still looks at you disapprovingly, but smiling nonetheless, and Louis is still harsh and loud, but that’s how he shows he cares. 

Zayn realises then, a little abruptly, that he _misses them._ And sort of has to hold himself back to not cry, because what kind of guy cries after realising how much he misses his friends? 

He doesn’t know how long he has been immersed in his thoughts, but apparently enough for the other lads to notice, pause the current game (Harry epically losing to Niall) and turn to look at him with clear worry in their eyes. 

And still, he doesn’t notice until he feels a hand in his shoulder. It’s Louis, that’s looking at him with a tentative smile on his lips and just the right amount of concern covering his gaze. 

“Hey, Z? You alright mate? You zoned out on us for a bit, there.”

Zayn realises then, that they probably have been calling his name for a while. He feels a faint blush cover his face, and anxiously starts biting the inside of his cheek; a habit he can’t seem to shake off and has had since he was fourteen. The others, of course, recognise it immediately and that seems to put them even more on alert. 

“Zayn?” this time is Liam, who is looking at him in a way that lets him know he’ll intervene if necessary: that he’ll stop Niall and Harry from asking questions, and Louis from being too brash with him. Zayn knows all of this from one single look and is grateful for it. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his hands, at the floor, at everything except the people in front of him. “It’s just… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Harry has an incredulous tint in his voice when he asks, as he gets closer to him, leaving his position in front of the tv and settling at Zayn’s left, Louis’s on his right. “What on Earth are you sorry for?”

The question seems to open the gate of Zayn’s thoughts, and suddenly he can’t bring himself to stop the words from leaving his mouth. 

“For everything! I’ve been a real shit friend -don’t give me that look Niall, I know I have been. And the worst is I _decided_ to be. I decided to leave, I decided to cut you all out and until now I hadn't realised that was one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made _in my life._ ”

“We understood why you left, Zayn,” announces Niall, with affirmative nods from everybody else. He continues, searching for Zayn’s eyes. “You weren’t in a good place, none of us were to be honest, and you talked with us. We knew, we supported your decision.”

“But not everything that came _after._ ” Zayn protests, feeling more pissed off than he expected. Why don’t they hate him? Why did they forgive him? The little voice in the back of his head is the one asking the questions, and right know he can’t help but listen to it. “I was a proper arse. I didn’t answer your calls or texts for months, I started talking shit about everything that happened in the band, and then that spiralled out of control and everyone was thinking I said things I never meant or taking them out of context. And then that goddamn twitter fight…”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself for that,” Louis interrupts him, a fierce protection covering his voice; it’s the kind of tone he has when talking about his siblings, and Zayn knows that, for the last eight years, the same tone has been applied to all of them as well. “I gave as much as I got, and we _both_ acted like idiots. We already talked about that Z, leave the past where it belongs.”

“I just, I just…” he feels the signs of an anxiety attack creeping within him, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can't… _no._ No, he’s not going to lose himself, not now. 

“I just don’t want to _lose you._ ” He finally admits and, isn’t that what it's all been about? A little fear of what he did was beyond repair? Zayn knows that he can start crying any second now, or deny everything and run…

But then Louis laughs. 

It’s not a mean laugh, nor a cruel one, but helps enough to snap Zayn out of his almost-attack and bring him back to them. 

“You’re not losing us. Like, ever.” He affirms, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’re brothers Z, and brothers fight, but we’re family, nonetheless. Right lads?”

(The word ‘family’ stays in his head. Why can’t he bring himself to say it, too?)

“We don’t want to lose _you_ , either Zayn,” Liam continues, a kind smile on his lips. “And we’re gonna be here for you, always.”

“Hear, hear! I didn’t spend the last eight years of my life with you lot for you to ditch me, and I won’t do it any time soon. We’re all stuck with each other Z, and those are facts of the universe.” Zayn laughs at Niall’s comment, something the Irish one had apparently been waiting for, and Zayn now can feel the voice in his head starting to quiet down.

Or that is until he looks at Harry, who has been awfully quiet in this quite emotional moment, keeping his head low and apparently running a thousand thoughts per minute; Zayn is trying to decipher what could be going on in his friend’s head when he feels the grip on his arm tighten and can hear Harry’s deep voice start singing: 

“ _A week ago you said to me: “Do you believe I’ll never be too far?_ ”

Zayn’s breath catches in his throat and Louis snorts. 

“You’re such a sap Haz.” he says, but pointedly looks at Niall, who goes to grab the guitar Louis has in his dining room. Niall starts playing as Harry finishes his first part:

“ _A necessity for apologies between you and me, baby there is none._ ”

Niall continues without hesitation, still strimming the guitar and Zayn sees how Louis and Liam start clapping at the beat, while he starts humming along, almost without realising he’s doing it. 

“ _…goodbyes are bittersweet. But it’s not the end, I’ll see your face again._ ”

They all sing the chorus, even Zayn, who doesn’t even have a proper part in the song, but it feels so natural and familiar, for all of them to be singing, that they limit themselves to continue the song. 

“ _Yesterday I went out to celebrate the birthday of a friend,_ ” Louis sings his part while looking at him, and Zayn can see all the words they still haven’t said, all the explanations and insults and apologies but, somehow, he knows they’ll sort it out. They always have. “ _But as we raised our glasses to make a toast, I realised you were missing._ ”

“ _We had some good times, didn’t we?_ ” Zayn smiles as he listens to Liam, still singing with a passion and honesty nobody can shake off of him. He laughs as Liam winks at him, saying everything the song doesn’t cover, and gives him one of his best smiles. “ _We wore our hearts out on our sleeve, goodbyes are bittersweet. But it’s not the end, I’ll see your face again._  
”  
Once Harry reaches the bridge, hugging Zayn as he softly sings “ _I’ll be by your side anytime you’re needing me_ ”, the voice inside Zayn’s head has disappeared completely. 

They finish the last chorus, share a look with each other and start laughing. As if nearly three years of fights, disagreements and lack of communication had never happened, as if they were still the five kids inside the bungalow, as if they had the world at their feet once more.

 _We’ll be alright._ Zayn knows, as he’s being hugged by the four of them at once and has an elbow on his ribs and he can’t feel his legs under the pile of human bodies over him. _We’re family, after all._

**Author's Note:**

> If you reached this part, thank you very much! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated.
> 
> find me at tumblr: goldenachilles


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